Other Wordly Rescue
by Isobel Hatchett
Summary: One night while lying in his cupboard, a little boy hopes for someone to love him like his mean Aunt and Uncle love his mean cousin. Then suddenly there's this weird light and a stranger that appears out of nowhere, punches his Uncle in the face, then runs off with the boy! Neither expected this when they woke up but they're gonna roll with it. M for swearing
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone, this is my new story _Other Wordly Rescue_. It's a SI (self insert) OC (original character) story and starts when Harry is 9 years old.**

**To those of you who are familiar with my other works, please be patient with me, I have so many ideas for stories and I absolutely have to write them or they won't leave me alone, so all fics that don't seem to be being updated are on hiatus and I have no clue when I'll get back to them. I probably will at some point though.**

**Please, readers, like and review, let me know what you think and tell me if there's any scenes you'd like to see further in the story. Ideas and any notes or things you'd like to point out are welcome, just please no flames. Thank you, enjoy!**

**P.S. obviously anything you recognise is not mine.**

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**CHAPTER 1 : Wish with all my heart**

There are many bad people in the world. People who look just like you and me, people who can smile and laugh, people who might go get a coffee with their colleagues during their break... normal people. But in their spare time they enjoy killing, hurting and tormenting. On one particular street, with snobbish and incredibly nosy inhabitants, live some such people. A man who goes to work every day selling drills, a stay at home wife and their son, who hasn't mastered the art of hiding his bad behaviour just yet. But when they come home, all that normality goes away and they finally reveal their true selves. You see, years ago, the stay at home wife's sister died along with her husband in a hidden war, and their beloved child was left on the doorstep of these bad people. Time went by and the family of three went out of their way to make the newcomer feel unwelcome, unwanted and unworthy of any type of affection by verbally, emotionally and even sometimes physically tormenting and abusing this child.

They had their reasons, of course, only very few people don't have a reason for being bad, and in this family's case it was jealousy and fear of the unknown. You see Mrs Dursley – the stay at home wife – was incredibly normal and average. She had a normal childhood, average looks, was average in everything she did and eventually grew up to become a normal mother in a normal home with a normal husband who fathered their under average darling little boy. Her sister on the other hand – the one that died in this secret war – was anything but normal and average. She was beautiful, she applied herself in school, was intelligent, kind and a general delight to be around. She also had magic. Petunia Dursley cried when her sister, the beautiful Lily, went to magic school without her – you see, they were very close in their early childhood. Alas, Petunia had no magic. Her jealousy prevented her from learning anything about the secret magical world that her sister was now part of, and when Lily ever demonstrated magic in front of her, she was horrified by the possibilities of what it could do and what people would think if they saw. Her unwillingness to accept only partial integration into this new world made the sisters drift apart, and so the hate that Petunia held towards magic grew. She eventually cut off contact with her sister and loathed anything that had anything to do with magic – even the word itself!

Vernon Dursley – the husband – doesn't really have an excuse other than he won't tolerate anything not normal. That and he was told about the magical world by his incredibly biased wife. So when Petunia's very magical nephew was deposited at her door along with a hastily written letter telling her of her estranged sister's death and that she had no choice but to keep the child, the entire family took it out on the poor boy.

Which is how we find ourselves, years later, in the tiny cupboard under the stairs of the Dursley house, which serves as the young Harry Potter's bedroom. Young Harry, almost nine years old now, was laying on an old and rotten dog bed that had been provided by Vernon's sister, who also very much enjoyed tormenting the child though her reasons are unknown, and he was crying. He wasn't sobbing to the point he couldn't breathe, like his cousin often did, nor was he making any noise at all in fact, apart from some very quiet sniffles. That day had been his cousin Dudley's ninth birthday, and Harry had had to cook a giant breakfast, do the dishes, tend to the garden, cook lunch, make all the snacks necessary for a popular child's birthday, clean the kitchen, the living room and Dudley's very big bedroom, before watching all his cousins friends come to celebrate, eat all the food and generally cause a ruckus. Harry new he was different. He wasn't liked by anybody and he had never had a birthday party, and though he was vaguely aware that his birthday was at the end of July – a bit more than a month after Dudley's – he didn't know the exact date.

And so, on the evening of Dudley's birthday, once everyone had gone to bed, he lay on his horrific dog bed with tears leaking from his eyes wishing that someone liked him. He wished with all the pain and hurt in his heart and all the hope his little body could manage that someone that knew him, truly cared enough for him to do all the things his aunt and uncle did – or made him do – for his cousin. This poor, magical, hated child lay curled up in the tiny bed he was quickly outgrowing, making sure to make no noise to avoid his giant meaty uncle coming down to punish him for waking them up, prayed and hoped and wished just for a little bit of happiness, to have a tiny bit of love directed at him for once.

And magic answered.

Sniffles were replaced with a squeak of alarm as a soft blue light appeared in thin air in his tiny cupboard, growing bigger and denser and brighter every second. Poor confused Harry manoeuvred himself against the opposite wall of his cupboard, as far away from this light as possible and averted his eyes as it quickly became blinding. Then all of a sudden it disappeared at the same time as a thump sounded. Unfortunately this thump was followed by another, and another, and all his toys were being swept very noisily to the side.

"Ah! What the f – where the hell am I? What – ow!"

The voice of a very irritated and very confused young woman made Harry open his eyes in shock. Tears forgotten, he stared at the silhouette trying to move about and get her bearings in his tiny cupboard and winced when she tried to get up and banged her head on the underside of a stair.

"Uh.. hello miss?" he meekly called, causing the unknown woman to freeze.

"Who's there?" she answered, and Harry noted a slight shake in her voice.

"I'm Harry, miss."

The silhouette seemed to relax slightly as she realised she was talking to a child and there was momentary silence before she spoke again.

"And do you know where I am, Harry?"

"Yes miss, you're in my cupboard." He replied. He had so many questions he wanted to ask such as what are you doing here? Who are you? How did you get here? But he knew it was bad to ask questions, so he just answered hers. He was also still a little gobsmacked and confused as to what was going on, so just went with the flow by default.

"Your cupboard. Right." The woman said. "Are you playing hide and seek, or something?"

This confused Harry and he scrunched up his nose at the weird question. "No?"

"Then what are you doing in a cupboard?" came the bewildered reply, causing the young child to blush.

"This is where I sleep."

There was a very pregnant pause and the unknown woman completely froze, Harry wasn't even sure if she was breathing and he worried he did something wrong. Finally though, she seemed to come out of her stupor and when she replied, it was with a slightly scary tone.

"Really. Well, Harry, just let me know how I get out of your cupboard and I'll be reporting this. I'll make sure the social services come and see how you're living and hopefully change it. Ok?"

"Yes, miss." Harry could hardly believe it. This stranger was going to try and help him? Really? Oh this was wonderful! "The door is just there."

The strange and kind woman followed his gesture and once she saw the slight cracks around the door, she nodded to herself and moved to get out of her awkward crouching position. A sudden flare of panic ran through Harry but he didn't have time to call out before her head slammed hard against the same stair as earlier, causing her to cry out loudly in pain.

"Ah shit!"

Harry would have blushed at the coarse language if a sudden noise from Vernon's room didn't pale suddenly. heavy footsteps could be heard stomping towards the stairs, and even the young woman still clutching her head flinched as dust fell from the ceiling. Before long the door was wrenched open and light came streaming into the tiny cupboard, illuminating the flabby arm that grabbed Harry's shirt and yanked him out. Confronted with the beefy red face of his uncle, Harry cried out in fear and shock as he was roughly shaken about.

"You little freak!" Vernon shouted. "I've told you before, you're not to make any noise! I have to work tomorrow and you, boy, aren't worth the money this family has to pay for you! What were you doing making all that noise in there? I won't have any of your freakishness in my house, understand! And another thing, you Potter scum, I won't have any sort of language like that around my son! I'll have –"

Suddenly, Vernon's rant was cut short by another angry voice.

"OI!"

Both Harry and his uncle looked down towards the boys cupboard, only to see a young woman with light brown hair crawling out of it. A shocked Harry watched as she struggled to unravel his ratty blanket from her leg, all the while shouting at his uncle.

"STAY AWAY FROM HIM, YOU FAT PIECE OF SHIT!"

This time Harry did blush, but the redness of his face was nothing compared to Vernon's – who by the way was still holding Harry so that his feet couldn't touch the floor.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do in my house? PETUNIA CALL THE POLICE, THE FREAK – OOF!"

Vernon's call for help was cut off as the stranger finally untangled herself and lunged at the huge man, punching him in the face. Immediately, Harry was dropped to the ground as Vernon fell backwards, clutching his jaw with a shocked look on his face. The man simply watched in astonishment as the woman pulled Harry to his feet and they rushed to the door, unlocked it with the key still in the lock and fled into the night. Only when they were halfway down the street did they hear Vernon's bellow of rage, but with a bit of encouragement from the woman, Harry didn't look back and instead put on a burst of speed.

Ten minutes later they had covered quite a bit of distance, and the woman stopped, Harry soon following. The boy watched as his saviour folded on her self and started gulping down air with her hand on her knees. Harry himself was panting from the long run, but otherwise he was fine. He took the time to properly look at the woman now that they were illuminated by the street lamps.

She was quite young for an adult, she looked around 18 or so, and she had light brown hair coming just past her shoulders. Her face was red and blotchy but he supposed that was from the run. She didn't _look _unfit, she was quite slim unlike his uncle and cousin, but not as thin as his aunt, and she was wearing dark skinny jeans that clung to her legs, a white shirt with writing on it that was tucked into her trousers and a worn women's leather jacket as well as some trainer type shoes. During his observation, Harry remained silent, watching the woman as she recovered from their escape and muttering to herself. Remaining discreet, he leaned in to hear what she was saying.

"Impossible... Harry Potter, Petunia, cupboard... no, no, no, not possible nope... magic, has to be... no other way... just fucking _appeared_... twat definitely looks like he was described... fat bastard... ooooh my god. Oh my god. Sweet baby Jesus... I'm dead... have to be... impossible... uh uhn, nope I refuse. Oohhh shit. Ok. Ok..."

Confused at what she was rambling about and shocked at the amount of cursing this woman could do, Harry turned his attention elsewhere until his new companion was ready to acknowledge him and hopefully even tell him what was going to happen now. He didn't have to wait long, as only a couple more minutes passed before the woman pulled herself to full height and took a deep steadying breath.

"Alright... Harry," she started, and the boy noticed a weird look come across her face as she said his name. "let's get somewhere safe for the night where we can talk, and then tomorrow we'll see what we do, Ok?"

Harry nodded happily, thanking the stars that he wasn't going back to the Dursley's tonight. The woman promptly nodded back once, as if to confirm to herself something and then emptied the contents of her left jacket pocket into her hands. When a paper note fell out, Harry realised that she was counting money. A few moments later she turned back towards him.

"Alright, I have 34 pounds. Do you know of anywhere that's open 24/7 and preferably has food, like... oh! Are there vending machines at the train station?"

"Yes, miss." Harry replied, making her eyes go slightly wide and a light blush colour her cheeks.

"Uh you can... just call me Isabelle. Or Izzy. Either is fine. So!" the lady – Isabelle – cleared her throat to get rid of any lingering embarrassment "I'll let you lead the way to the train station."

Harry nodded and looked around to get his bearings. Soon they were off, Harry leading the way and Isabelle slightly behind. The entire way, Isabelle asked lots of questions about Harry, wincing or sighing whenever he answered.

"So what's your full name?" she asked.

"Harry Potter."

"Who was that man?"

"My Uncle Vernon."

"Who else did you live with?"

"My Aunt Petunia and my cousin Dudley."

"Why do you live with your Aunt and Uncle?"

"Because my parents died in a car crash when I was a baby."

Some of the questions made Harry believe she already knew all the answers, and she was just checking to see if they were correct.

"What main chores do you do for the Dursleys?"

"Cooking, cleaning and gardening." He answered, though he was slightly confused as to how she knew his relatives' last name.

It seemed the more questions Harry answered, the more agitated Isabelle got, until finally they arrived at the station and the young woman rushed to the vending machines with a sigh of relief and a pile of coins in her hand. Harry simply resigned himself to sitting on the bench with a gurgling stomach, but was shocked to his core when Isabelle came back and offered him a Twix chocolate bar – not even just half of the packet, but _both_ bars in one packet! He looked up to her kind face with wide his before taking the offering with a trembling hand, and as they sat in silence eating, he knew this woman who had appeared in his cupboard as if by magic would forever be his hero.

The feeling was reinforced when Isabelle gestured for him to lie down on the bench and rest his head in her lap when she noticed his eyes drooping. He followed her instructions gratefully and fell asleep with the feeling of her warm legs under his head and her kind smile in his mind; he even thought she stroked his hair at one moment.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2 : What now?**

Isabelle jolted awake the next morning thinking she had been dreaming. Unfortunately, her movement made Harry wake up and she was confronted once more with the reality that she had just saved an almost nine year old Harry Potter from his relatives.

"Morning, Harry." She said, smiling softly at the boy who was still laying in her lap. Once he realised where he was and what position he was in, he quickly sat up with a blush on his cheeks, making Isabelle smile wider.

The young woman once again bought some food from the vending machine, sharing it with a surprised Harry before going over the plan with him.

"So." She said. "I'm thinking we should catch a train to London, we should find everything we need there, and on the way there's some stuff I need to tell you about. Any problems?"

"No, Isabelle." Harry replied dutifully, though he wondered why they needed to go to London. Was that where Isabelle lived?

They quickly went to buy their tickets – which cost 18 pounds all together, leaving them with just 10 pounds – and 20 minutes later they were on the train to London.

Harry watched as the woman that had saved him looked around warily, ensuring no one was close enough to hear, then turned back to him and took a great gulp of air.

"Alright, Harry, there's some stuff I need to tell you about and it needs to be done before we get to London. I guess first things first, since I took you from the Dursleys I'll be taking care of you now, unless you have any problem with that?" she paused for a moment and Harry quickly shook his head. Why would he have a problem with this new arrangement? He had food last night _and_ this morning. He had only known Isabelle for a few hours but he knew she was way better than his horrible relatives. "Good. So ground rules I suppose. You _are_ allowed to ask questions, I will not be hitting you anytime at all, and you _will _be receiving presents on birthdays and Christmas. Any questions about what I just said?"

Once more, Harry shook his head when she paused. He did have questions, but his mind was blank from shock. No hitting? Presents?

"Alright, now for the hard part, I guess." Isabelle continued. "Harry, magic is real, and you are magical. Your parents were magical and when you turn eleven you'll be going to a magical school that's up in Scotland. I know it's hard to believe but you have to believe it before we keep going. Questions?"

Harry had no clue what was going on. Magic? His parents? Scotland? It took him a few moments to gather himself.

"B-but I can't be magical!" he stuttered, and Isabelle just stared calmly back.

"Why not?"

"Well... because... because I'm just Harry!"

Isabelle smiled softly, easing some of the boy's panic and confusion. "Yes, Harry, you are still just you. You've always had magic. Can't you remember anything unexplainable that you've done in the past?"

Harry thought real hard, and finally, there were a few things that stood out. One time when he turned his teacher's hair blue when she punished him for something Dudley did. Another time, his hair grew back overnight when his Aunt Petunia sheared it all off. There was also one day when his Aunt tried to force this disgusting jumper over his head, but it turned out to be too small to even fit a baby. His Aunt figures it had shrunk in the wash but Harry was _sure_ it was actually too big for him before he started struggling. Eyes wide, the young wizard turned to his saviour to find her smiling softly again. Somehow that smile always calmed him down; no one had ever smiled like that at him.

"I'm magical." He whispered, awed.

"Yes Harry. That's why your Aunt and Uncle always called you a freak, because they knew about magic and they absolutely hate it."

Scowling at the thought of his relatives hiding his magic from him, Harry quickly decided to move on.

"You knew my parents?" he asked, hoping she did and could tell him stories about them. He saw her smile grow sad as she thought of what to say.

"I didn't know them, no, but I've heard of them. I'd be happy to tell you stories later if you like." She said quietly, and Harry felt his heart sore. She knew about his parents!

"Are you magical? Is that how you know of them? If they were magical and you're magical you would have gone to the same school, right? But you didn't meet them because you're not the same age." Harry asked, bouncing on his seat. He liked this new rule about questions.

Isabelle laughed quietly when she saw his wide grin. "No, I'm not magical, at least I don't think I am. I'm kind of... special, but not in the same way as you and it'll come up later."

"Ok! I don't have anymore questions."

"Right. So as I said, your family was magical. Your mother, Lily was what is called a Muggleborn, meaning she's the first magical in her family, but your dad was a Pureblood, meaning his entire family have a history of being magical." Isabelle explained, and suddenly a thought occurred to Harry.

"Do I have any magical family?" did he dare hope?

"Uh..." Isabelle scrunched up her nose in concentration and the boy in front of her giggled at the face. "No close relatives, but I think you do have some distant cousins."

Harry froze. He had family? Cousins? But what if they were like Dudley?

"Anyway," his saviour continued. "the Potter family was apparently very rich, and when your parents died, they left you all their money."

Jolting out of his seat, Harry squealed. "I'm rich?" earning a chuckle from the young woman.

"Yes Harry, you are. Now... uh, this makes me very uncomfortable but as you saw, we only have like ten pounds left. When we get to London, could... could we use your money to find a place to stay and buy food until I get a job? I'll be quick, promise! And I'll pay everything back when I can."

Isabelle was blushing bright red and her shoulders were hunched as she looked at the boy. But Harry couldn't really see the problem. If he was going to live with her, but she didn't have any money, then of course he would help her out!

"Would I have enough?" he asked.

"Yes. Definitely. It won't take me long to get a job."

"Then sure." The boy shrugged. "You don't even have to pay me back!"

"Uh... I prefer to pay you back, you never know when you need money, Harry. Thank you." Isabelle responded quietly, making Harry blush. An adult had thanked him! "Ok so now that the money is out of the way, the rest can wait until later. We should be in London in about 15 minutes, then we need to find a disguise for you, then head to Charing's Cross."

"Disguise?"

Isabelle froze and cursed, making Harry blush again.

"Sorry, though you are going to have to get used to the swearing. I don't really know how to stop myself. And yes, disguise. It's one of those things that would be better if we talked about it later."

Harry nodded. He wasn't really used to getting his questions answered so if she said he would get an answer but he had to wait for it, then there was no problem with that. Hoping there really weren't any limitations on questions he could ask, Harry found himself interrogating Isabelle about herself. Most of the questions he asked had to do with things they would talk about later, but otherwise he discovered that Isabelle was 20 years old, lived in England though she had lived in France with her mother after her parents separated and had a sister that was six years younger than her. He also discovered she had no clue how to orient herself in London, and since he had never been either, they had to ask others.

With the remaining ten pounds, Isabelle bought Harry a cap that descended over his forehead and covered his scar, a plain blue t-shirt and some black summer shorts. They then threw Dudley's castoffs into the bin before making their way towards Charing's Cross, where they wondered around until Harry finally saw a grubby pub called the Leaky Cauldron, just as Isabelle had described.

They had some difficulty going in, as every time Isabelle approached, she would suddenly veer off and Harry had to run after her. They finally discovered that if Harry was holding her hand, not only could she go in, but she could also see the pub. So they walked in, hand in hand, and once inside Isabelle took the lead once more, guiding Harry towards the counter. The patrons present barely even lifted their heads when they saw the suddenly shy young woman approach the bar tender, holding the hand of a child.

"Play along." Isabelle hissed under her breath to her new charge. "Excuse me? Are you Tom?"

The bartender smiled at her, and Harry noticed she seemed extremely shy and uncomfortable. Why?

"Yes, dear, how can I help?" the newly named Tom replied, walking over towards them. Isabelle let out a sigh of relief and Harry wondered if this was the act he had to play along with.

"Oh thank goodness! Would you be able to help us get to the Alley, please? I need to buy my nephew some books on magic and all since I have no clue and since my brother died –" Isabelle suddenly cut herself off with a blush while Harry watched with wide eyes. "Sorry for rambling, sir, it's just... the last time I was here there was a war going on."

Tom's eyes widened significantly as he stared at the pair. "Oh, of course! Follow me. I assume your brother was a wizard?" he asked as he led the way to the back.

"Yes, sir... Muggleborn I thing the word was. He died in the war, leaving little Johnny to my mum and me." Little Johnny? Harry then understood what was going on, he just didn't understand why. "Since his death, my mum doesn't really want much to do with magic, so as this little tyke gets closer to Hogwarts age, it's more and more up to me to take care of him. I want to make sure he's well prepared when he goes to school, I know Brandon had a lot of trouble what with being thrust into a new world all of a sudden."

Tom the bartender nodded gravely as they kept walking. Just as they arrived into a small courtyard, he took a thin stick out of his pocket before he continued speaking, all while tapping bricks on the wall.

"Yes, I'm so sorry for your loss, dear, but you'll be glad to know the war's been done with for almost eight years now. Young Ha-"

"Oh yes, I know all about that, my mum used to have the _Daily Prophet _delivered."

Harry had been watching the adults as they talked and wondered why Isabelle had cut Mr Tom off with a slight panicky look towards him. He supposed this was one of the answers he would get later.

Then, before any other thought could pop into his head, the wall actually opened to reveal the most wondrous thing he had ever seen. Before them was a hidden street, packed with people in robes. Owls flew overhead and shops surrounded the street with all their colourful glory. He vaguely registered Isabelle gasp beside him as Mr Tom said with a smile on his face :

"Welcome to Diagon Alley!"

There was a moment of silence before Isabelle finally stuttered a thank you while Harry was still staring in shock. This was the absolute proof. He was magical and it was amazing. He couldn't wait to get to that school. He was jolted out of his thoughts when he felt a slight tug on his hand, which was still clutching Isabelle's tightly. He looked up and saw her wobbly smile; clearly this was something she had never seen before either and she was just as moved as he was.

"Come on." She said after having cleared her throat. "We need to get to the bank. Thank you Tom."

They stepped forward and the wall closed behind them, but they hardly noticed. As they made their way down the alley, still clutching each other's hand tightly, they took in all of the incredible sights. There were shops that sold cauldrons, another that seemed to sell all sorts of different plants and animal parts for potion making and the like, one that sold robes... before long though they were before a huge marble white building guarded by little creatures with pointy teeth and ferocious looks in their tiny black eyes. Harry felt Isabelle's hand tighten around his own as they stepped through the doors and joined a queue to speak with one of the creatures.

"These are goblins, Harry." Isabelle whispered. "they're very powerful and vicious, they have their own type of magic so they don't need wands. All wizarding money is guarded by them, though they hate wizards. Magical money is very different from Muggle money – the money you grew up with. First there's the little bronze coins, they're called knuts and there's 29 of those to a sickle, the silver ones, and 17 sickles to a galleon, the gold coins. Got it?"

Harry nodded as the goblin at the desk finally gestured them forward and Isabelle put on a polite smile.

"Hello, I was wondering if we needed an appointment to discuss an existing client's account?"

The goblin looked at them both with a blank stare before responding. "Who is this client?"

Then something happened that Harry didn't really understand. Isabelle looked around before leaning in and saying his name in a hurried whisper, causing the goblin to raise an eyebrow and train his eyes onto him. There was silence for a few seconds while the goblin looked the boy up and down, before he finally put a card that said _closed _on his desk and hopping off of his seat.

"Follow me." He grunted, then promptly swivelled around and started walking away, not even looking back to check if they were following the instructions.

Isabelle sighed in relief before ushering her new charge in the direction the goblin went, catching him up quickly as they were led down corridors and past dozens of doors with names like Sharptooth or Longclaw. Finally they stopped at a heavy black door that had the name Ragnok on it. Harry wondered why this goblin's name was different to the others, though he definitely wouldn't ask if he looked like those in the main hall.

"Come in." Came a gruff voice on the other side of the door once the teller had knocked.

The door opened wide to show a relatively small room, about half the size of his relatives' living room. There were no windows and everything seems illuminated by lanterns stuck to the rock walls. There were various weapons hanging on the walls too, though mainly on the one opposite them, hanging just behind the goblin Ragnok. The teller pushed them into the room and slammed the door closed, leaving them alone with the new goblin who regarded them for a few moments.

"Sit." He finally said.

Moving forward, Harry untangled himself from his saviour's side so they could sit on the chairs provided. He hadn't realised he had stuck so close to her when they entered the bank and he saw these new and scary creatures.

"You can take your hat off now, Harry." Isabelle said softly, and he hurried to comply.

"What can I do for you?" the goblin asked in his rough voice, and Isabelle straightened before answering.

"We have some questions about Harry here's vault, and we'll also be needing a new key. Dumbledore has the original."

Ragnok grunted at this news and Harry thought he seemed angry.

"And why does Albus Dumbledore have Mister Potter's key?"

"I don't know, sir. He's had it since James and Lily Potter died. Probably for safekeeping." Isabelle replied, and Harry wondered who this Dumbledore was and why he had his bank key.

Once more, Ragnok grunted. "first thing, we need to identify Mister Potter. Hand please."

With a look at Isabelle, Harry stretched his hand over the goblin's desk so Ragnok could take it, before letting out a cry of surprise. Once he had a hold of Harry's hand, Ragnok had brought up his other hand and slashed the end of the boy's finger, making a small cut where blood pooled.

"Harry! Are you alright?"

The boy nodded to reassure Isabelle, who had jumped forward in her seat, ready to intervene if necessary. The sight made Harry smile and the pain in his finger go away. They turned their attention back to the goblin, who had pressed Harry's bloody finger to a thick piece of paper, and when his hand was released there was a smudge of blood staining the white. Suddenly, the blood seemed to move and stretched until it formed words, and Harry had trouble reading upside down but – yes! The blood spelled his name!

Staring wide eyed at the paper, Isabelle nor Harry seemed to nice the goblin's nod and pleased expression until he put it away and shouted something in a language they didn't understand. The door opened to reveal another goblin that seemed younger – it had less lines on its face and less hair in its ear. There was more of the unknown language before the younger goblin nodded and left, leaving the three alone once again.

"All is in order." Ragnok announced. "What questions do you have?"

"Well first we'd like to know if Harry has any other vaults apart from his trust vault." Isabelle said after having cleared her throat.

"Yes. The trust vault is the money Mister Potter has access to until he reaches majority. There is also the family vault which he will receive a key to once he turns seventeen."

Smiling wide, Harry looked to his new carer as she nodded.

"Thank you. And how much is in the trust vault?"

Rising, Ragnok went to one of the desks in the corner of the office to retrieve a file. Harry thought he saw his last name on the front of the file but he couldn't be sure as a second later, it was opened on the desk.

"There is 10,000 galleons in the trust vault, to be refilled to that amount each year on Mister Potter's birthday."

Gasps were heard coming from both Harry and Isabelle as they heard how much was in the vault. Harry had 10,000 galleons! Per year! And that was only until he was 17! Harry thought he was going to faint. He didn't have to wear rags all this time, he didn't have to sleep in a cupboard all this time, he didn't have to wear glasses that he found in the bin because his Aunt refused to spend any money on him. He was rich! A cough broke his musings as Isabelle tried to get her bearings before asking her next question.

"Are there any properties that harry owns?"

Harry's head whipped to face her so fast he thought he heard his bones crack. Properties? As in houses?

"Yes." Harry thought his heart stopped. "There is a house in Godric's Hollow that was destroyed on Halloween 1981 and then seized by the Ministry, there is Potter Manor, partially destroyed in 1979, and a small one bedroom flat in Diagon Alley that is still functional. Would you like any of these properties repaired or accessed?"

"What do you think, Harry?" Isabelle asked softly. She was asking his opinion? "We could live in the flat here while the Manor gets repaired if you like? Your parents lived in Godric's Hollow until they died, but I think it'll be too hard getting it back from the Ministry."

Harry simply nodded, too emotional to respond verbally. He had houses, including an actual Manor, and he still owned the house his parents lived in. That, and Isabelle asked him to decide; it was his choice what they did because it was his money and houses and because she actually wanted his opinion. Never before had Harry hated the Dursleys as much as he did in that moment. He was rich, he had houses, and it seemed it was possible for someone to like him. All his life they had lied to him, and now he was free, he was never going back.

"How much would it cost to get the Manor repaired? Do you know of any construction companies that could do it? And how long would it take?" Isabelle asked while Harry desperately tried to hold back tears.

"For the fee of 2,000 galleons, Gringotts can do the job in two weeks. We only need Mister Potter's signature. We can also add wards for 100 galleons per ward." Came the reply, and once more Isabelle turned to Harry.

"What do you think?"

"Do it. I have 10,000 galleons until my birthday, I can spend as much as I want. I want a house." Harry responded, trying to hide the tremors in his voice. Isabelle gave him a wide smile and he knew he made the right choice. She was pretty when she smiled, he hadn't noticed before but she had dimples when she smiled big and wide and showed her teeth.

"We'll do that then. Could we also have an anti-apparition ward up please? And if there's a way for the anti-muggle ward to not target specific people, could we have that too? And do you install floos?"

"We can install a floo and get it registered for a fee of 125 galleons. To have it registered under a name other than Harry Potter will cost 15 galleons. The anti-apparition ward is fine, and for 5 galleons we can provide any muggle with a charmed bracelet to negate the anti-muggle ward."

Once more, Isabelle turned to Harry. "Is that fine?"

"What are wards?" he asked. If he now had money, he had to be responsible with it, which meant knowing what he was paying for, though Isabelle thought they should have it and he trusted her.

"They're like protections over the entire area. Anti-apparition means no one will be able to teleport into or out of the Manor without an object that was charmed before, and anti-muggle means only wizards and witches can come near the property or even see it. If we do that one, I'll need the bracelet so I can get in and out without holding your hand." Came the explanation, and Harry thought it was indeed quite necessary.

"Ok then, let's do that."

Once the papers were drawn up and signed by Harry and Ragnok confirmed the money had successfully been taken from the trust vault, they were handed a small bag that was bigger on the inside and led to his vault, where Harry suddenly stopped functioning. To hear that he was rich was one thing, but to see it! There were mountains of gold and silver and numerous piles of bronze knuts, and all this was after all the money for the Manor to be repaired and protected!

Ushered in by Isabelle, he held the bag as she put at least a thousand galleons inside, explaining that they were starting a new life and it would be best to get all the costs out of the way before his birthday the next month when his vault would refill. Even at nine, Harry understood that since this was a new beginning, there were things they'd need to buy now that they wouldn't need later, like furniture or maybe even some magical equipment!

Once they were done they were led up to the main hall of the bank, where Harry was instructed to put his hat back on. Isabelle then took his hand with a smile and ensured the money pouch was well hidden before they exited the bank, pausing at the door.

"Right. Let's get started."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3 : Welcome home**

It took Harry and Isabelle only ten minutes to go from the goblin bank to their new temporary home. They simply followed the numbers on the door until they reached the one that was written on the piece of paper the young woman held; it turns out that only half of Diagon Alley was a shopping district. If you went far enough, the buildings would grow smaller and smaller until there were just rows of small houses that had doors leading straight onto the cobbled street where a bunch of children played.

Expecting to find the apartment completely empty and abandoned years ago, Harry was surprised to find that it was actually furnished. There were indeed signs of someone having lived there, though the amount of dust did indicate that the place had been vacant for a good few years. After having hung up her jacket along with Harry's cap, Isabelle turned and faced the room fully, letting her eyes rove over every nook and cranny while she stood with her hands on her hips. Finally, she nodded resolutely.

"Right." She announced, causing Harry to snap to attention. "First thing's first : we need to get this place cleaned and inhabitable. Once that's done, we'll see what's missing and go shopping. Alright?"

Harry nodded, just as firmly as she had, and moved to roll up the sleeves of his giant shirt until he remembered that it had been binned and replaced with a new short sleeved one. Once more he was hit with gratefulness and smiled widely at Isabelle, his saviour, only to find that she had already moved and was now searching through cabinets and drawers in the kitchen that was slightly to the side. The boy approached, wondering what he could do to help.

"What are you looking for?" he asked as she closed another set of cupboards.

"Looking for some sponges or a cloth we can – ah HA!"

The poor boy jumped in fright as Isabelle shouted her victory while stuffing her arms full of various cleaning equipment she had found under the sink. She then set them to work. Harry was to get all the dust off of various furniture while Isabelle cleaned the kitchen and the floors, and he did his job wonderfully, attacking the various empty shelves with an enthusiasm he had never shown before. He even took the cushions off of the sofa and chairs and smacked them against the wall outside the house. He was about to do the same with the curtains when Isabelle shouted.

"Stop!"

Harry froze, his hands inches away from the filthy drapes as he turned to look at his new guardian in confusion. He was supposed to clean everything, wasn't he? Isabelle was standing in the middle of the room, holding a mop in one hand with the other stretched out towards him. There was a look of fear and concern as she kept her gaze on him.

"Slowly... step away from the curtains." She ordered, her voice a forced calm that instantly made Harry wary of the shabby cloth. The caution Isabelle had in her voice was similar to the one someone would use when telling a friend not to make any sudden moves when confronted with a wild animal.

Watching in fear, Harry stood back as Isabelle walked slowly towards the offending object, her mop clutched firmly in both hands. He then observed in bewilderment as she prodded the curtain with her cleaning utensil, all the while standing as far away as possible. When nothing happened, she tried again, more firmly. Again, nothing happened and Isabelle started violently batting the entire window with the mop for a good minute before she suddenly stopped and sent a relieved smile Harry's way.

"It's alright, sorry for scaring you there. I thought we might have some doxies. It's a miracle we don't with the amount of dust there is." She said, and the boy visibly relaxed. They weren't in any danger after all!

"What are doxies?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"They're magical pests that like all this dust and stuff." Isabelle replied. "I know they like curtains and I know that they have some sort of venom. It's not too strong but seeing as neither of use can't use magic, a swarm could be dangerous."

Harry frowned. "Why can't I use magic?"

"Because you can't control your magic yet. You learn spells and everything at Hogwarts, where you'll go when you're eleven." Came the answer. "Of course you have accidental magic, but until you get a wand and go to school, we're just going to have to do everything the muggle way."

After receiving a nod of acceptance, Isabelle helped the young boy detach the curtains and take them outside for a good shaking, temporarily abandoning her mop. She had already cleaned all of the kitchen, including inside the cupboards and draws and the floor, and so had moved on to the living room floor, which was already half way done when she interrupted Harry's cleaning. Overall it took them almost four hours to clean everything, including the small bedroom that was to the left of the entrance, and once they were done, the pair stood at the main door and observed their handiwork.

The floor was made of wood and shined from the attention Isabelle had given it, and there was a red rug with a gold lining in the middle, laying underneath a black leather sofa that showed some slight wear and tear. There was a coffee table in front of it, the same light shade of wood as the various cabinets that leaned against the wall all around the living room. The kitchen was spotless, the cupboards the same shade of wood as the furniture in the other room, and there was a strip of white tiles going about a foot above the cooker and counter, before the wall changed to a light blue colour, as opposed to the living room's simple cream lined with gold. The bedroom, however, showed more signs of life. The walls were a dark red, again lined with gold, and the furniture was considerably darker. One of the walls was completely covered in shelves, presumably for books or trinkets, and the mattress on the bed seemed worn too – though not enough to be uncomfortable.

It was as they exited the bedroom that Isabelle froze with a gasp, her eyes stuck to the top of the door frame in front of her. Harry, noticing her reaction, followed her gaze and found an inscription carved into the wood : _Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. _ He wondered what that meant. Looking at Isabelle, Harry deduced that these were in fact people, as she seemed to have just seen a ghost.

"Isabelle?" he asked softly, reaching out to touch her only to stop his hand only inches from her arm. "Who are they?"

Harry was not expecting the look of pain and sympathy on her face as she turned to him. Then, to further his shock, she gently pulled him into a hug.

Harry had never been hugged before.

Linking his shaky arms around her slim waist, he allowed himself to feel the love and gratitude he had for this woman. She had appeared out of nowhere when he was sad and begging for love, she had punched his mean uncle in the face and best of all, she had taken him away from that horrible place. His saviour had given him food before and after sleeping, she had bought him new clothes and introduced him to a completely new and wonderful world. He loved her, simple as that.

His musings were cut short as Isabelle slowly separated them, and he looked up at her but everything was blurry. Suddenly he felt a soft hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear that had fallen. Once his tears cleared, he looked up again to see Isabelle staring at him with a sad smile. Why was she sad? Was it because he was crying? He was led to the bed where Isabelle gestured for him to sit, and she took a place next to him, holding his hands in hers. She seemed to hesitate for a few moments before she spoke.

"Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail and Prongs were nicknames that four very close friends chose for themselves. Together, the group was called the Marauders, you'll hear a lot about them when you get to Hogwarts, they were huge pranksters." She said, and Harry drunk her every word. "Padfoot's real name was Sirius Black, Moony was Remus Lupin, Wormtail was Peter Pettigrew and... and Prongs was James Potter."

Harry gasped as he realised. His father! His father and his friends had been here, and they had carved their names into the wood. Even now, as he looked at the carvings, Harry could tell that each name was written in a different handwriting. Here, Harry had evidence of his father, proof that he had really existed and what's more, it was in his own handwriting. There, at the top of the door, was something that his father had written with his own hand. Harry was so overwhelmed he didn't understand what was happening when his vision went blurry, causing him to lose sight of his father's writing. He barely even realised the agonised cry he heard was his until he was gathered into Isabelle's arms again, though this time he didn't hesitate as he threw his arms around her and clutched tightly as he was wracked with sobs.

It took him half an hour to calm down enough to realise that they were back on the bed – which the boy had left to get a closer look at the handwriting – and that Isabelle was cradling him and softly running her fingers through his hair, occasionally making soothing shushing noises. It took another ten minutes for Harry to completely stop sniffling and moaning.

Positioning him on the bed so that his feet dangled off the side, Isabelle knelt so she was at his height and cradled his face in her hands as she met his eyes.

"How about we go get an early dinner back at the Leaky? We still have a lot to do, and tonight before bed, I'll tell you how they earned their nicknames. Alright?"

She spoke softly, and Harry heard the understanding in her voice that made his blush go away. He nodded, wiping away any remnants of tears on his face with the back of his hand while Isabelle stood to her full height. Harry followed suit, holding her hand as they moved to the front door, both smiling at each other.

Back at the pub, Tom offered a kind smile to the pair as he served their meal : a shepherd's pie for Isabelle and a chicken stew for Harry. The young woman didn't want the poor boy's stomach to explode because of a heavy meal after the starvation the Dursleys had put him through.

While they ate, Isabelle told Harry stories about his mother. He learned that she knew about magic before going to Hogwarts, unlike other Muggleborns, because a young wizard saw her do magic in the park one day and told her all about it. Harry learned that his mother and this boy became friends, even though his Aunt Petunia didn't like their relationship because the boy was dressed badly and was always dirty; she explained that this was because the boy was badly treated by his father, the same way Harry was badly treated by the Dursleys. When he heard that Lily had managed to somewhat control her accidental magic, managing to grow little flowers out of her hand at will and making leaves fly around, Harry wondered if he could learn to do the same, that way even if he didn't have a wand or know any spells, he could still help out with whatever magic he did manage to control.

Not once though did Isabelle mention this boy wizard's name, and Harry simply forgot to ask.

When they had finished eating, Tom let them back into the Alley again with a wide smile and good day wishes, and Harry felt that if he could keep holding his pretty saviour's hand and hear stories about his parents, then it would be a good day indeed.

"Alright Harry," Isabelle said, claiming the boy's attention once more. "it's best if we stay in the Alley today since we only have wizard money. We can get some money exchanged tomorrow and go buy some muggle clothes, but for now we've got enough on our plate." Harry nodded firmly. He had the list they had made earlier on him and he knew they had lots to buy, even without getting clothes and food from the muggle world. "We should probably buy a trunk first so we can carry everything else. Come on."

And so they went down the Alley into various shops. First they bought a brand new trunk, all pretty and shiny with several compartments and charms installed on it, including the feather-light charm, which came in very handy. Then they went to Flourish and Blott's and bought a load of books on various subjects including wizard history and culture, a book about Hogwarts, quite a few beginner books for potions and herbology, as well as a few on runes for Isabelle. After that they went to Madam Malkin's where they spent a whole hour getting sets of robes for both of them in colours that suited them best. They also bought a few games like Gobstones and Exploding Snap, and even an owl, which Harry couldn't stop staring at though the bird didn't seem to mind; the thing was huge and had really fluffy and pretty brown feathers all different shades. Finally, they got a load of parchment, ink and quills for Harry to start writing with as practice for when he went to school. Overall, it was a very successful day.

Finally arriving back home, completely worn out but very satisfied with the day's purchases – Harry even more so as he got them both a huge strawberry and vanilla ice cream to share from this nice little shop that was next to the Leaky Cauldron – Isabelle instructed Harry to take a bath while she put the books away in the single bedroom, which Harry would be using.

Harry emerged from the bathroom just as Isabelle placed the last book with a happy smile. He was wearing the new pyjamas they bought at Malkin's : a simple shirt and trouser combo with a robe over it. The boy was ushered into bed with a wide smile on his face, a smile that widened when Isabelle sat next to him and put an arm over his shoulder.

"So!" she said. "Would you rather I tell the story like real life, or like a fairy tale?"

"Real life!" he was nine – almost! He was too old for fairy tales! And besides, this was a story about his father, he wanted it to be real as possible.

"Alright then. So your dad met the first of his three best friends on the train to Hogwarts – Sirius. When they got to the school, they made friends with two other boys : Remus and Peter. While Sirius and your dad were very loud and chaotic, true pranksters that enjoyed making people laugh, Remus and Peter were quite shy. For Peter, it was because while he wasn't particularly bad at anything, he wasn't amazing either; he was a very self conscious boy. Remus, on the other hand, had a huge secret, one that could get him expelled if anyone knew. In fact, he was only there because the headmaster is a very kind man who believes everyone should be given a chance to prove themselves. Remus Lupin was a Werewolf."

Harry gasped, fully invested in the story that was actual real life.

"Werewolves are real?" he asked, his voice high and squeaky.

"Yep!" Isabelle replied cheerily. "Now, a little pause in the story to explain a bit about Werewolves so you understand better. Werewolves are wizards and witches who were bitten, and now transform into a wolf every full moon. That one night, Werewolves are incredibly dangerous because they are completely feral, the wizard or witch inside has absolutely no control over what happens. As soon as they see someone, they attack. Now there are many Werewolves that are good people, who are responsible and hide themselves on the full moon so that they don't hurt anybody, but there are others that actually enjoy it. Because of the violence that happens on that one night, wizards and witches absolutely hate Werewolves, even though any other day they are completely normal. There's loads of laws about Werewolves that hurt them, including one that says they can't go to Hogwarts. Remus Lupin's dad offended one of the bad Werewolves, Fenrir Greyback, so in return, Greyback attacked Remus, who was just four at the time."

Once again, Harry gasped. Being attacked by a dangerous out of control wizard-wolf at four years old was even worse that living with the Dursleys!

"Remus turned out to be a good Werewolf, right?" he asked, his voice quivering.

"Yes, he did. He's the best Werewolf out there, even though he is a very, very sad man because life has given him a very hard time. So back to the story, Remus was a Werewolf, which means he grew up knowing that if anyone knew what he was, they'd kill him, so he tried to avoid people as much as possible. And then out of nowhere comes two loud and boisterous boys, both rich and well cared for, boys who had everything in life and knew nothing of suffering – at least he thought – and they manage to convince him that he does deserve friends. But even with his friends, Remus was absolutely terrified of what would happen when they found out, so imagine his surprise at the end of second year, when all three of his friends face him and demand to know the truth. They already knew, but they wanted confirmation. Now, imagine his surprise when, after he told them and he expected them to tell everyone, your dad stomped over, smacked him on the back of the head and called Remus Lupin an idiot for not trusting them."

Isabelle paused to give the boy in her arms a wide smile when he giggled. Honestly she made that last part up, though. She had no idea how they found out about Remus or how they confronted him. Nevertheless, she continued.

"So they left for the summer holidays and when they came back as Third Years, Sirius and your dad had spent the whole summer in their libraries searching for a way to help, because they knew that Remus would absolutely hate himself if he ever hurt anyone, and they knew that the transformation Werewolves have each month is incredibly painful. Of course, there is no cure for lycanthropy, but they were the best students in their year apart from your mother, and they had the advantage of creativity that their pranks offered. Still, they found nothing. Until their first Transfiguration class. See the professor, Minerva McGonagall, is an Animagus, meaning she can change into a specific animal at will – McGonagall can change into a cat. And because of their research on Werewolves, they knew that only _humans_ can become a Werewolf when bitten. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"You mean they became Animaguses?" Harry questioned excitedly. Imagine that! His dad changing into an animal!

"Yep! And the plural is _Animagi_. But becoming an Animagus is _incredibly _hard, most adult wizard and witches don't even bother trying because it's too hard. But with their hard work, determination, sheer stubbornness and desire to help a friend, they decided to try. Even if it wasn't a cure, it still meant they could keep their friend company on full moons and hopefully their forms would be big enough to fight him off if he got aggressive. They finally managed it –"

"Yes!"

Isabelle chuckled at the little boy and thought that perhaps this wasn't the best story for bedtime. Harry was way too invested.

"Ssh, this is supposed to be a bedtime story remember? You need to sleep after this. They finally managed the transformation in the middle of their fifth year. Peter could turn into a rat, which would help since it was small enough for them to get to the safe place Remus was hidden on full moons. Sirius was a Grim, a giant black dog that Divination enthusiasts will tell you represents death. Your dad... he turned into a stag."

Isabelle watched as Harry's eyes grew wide in awe.

"Woah."

"Hmm, yeah. And that is how they got their names. Your dad and his friends were huge pranksters, and decided to have codenames that had to do with their animal form : Padfoot, like the paws of a dog, Wormtail, for Peter's rat tail, Moony, because of Remus' connection with the full moon, and Prongs, like the antlers of a stag."

Harry smiled happily at the picture that presented. He imagined a big black dog, a tall and noble stag and rat riding on the antlers running around in a field as they played with a big grey wolf under the light of the full moon. He was proud of his dad. He supported his friend when everyone else would have had him killed, and then he worked hard to provide comfort to said friend, all the while learning something really useful.

"When I grow up, I'm gonna be an Animagus." The boy muttered tiredly as he shuffled further under the blankets, ignorant of Isabelle's kind and caring smile. He was only aware of her muttered goodnight as she kissed his forehead and brushed her fingers through his hair as he fell asleep.

Isabelle herself only waited until he was asleep before she took her own bath, then finished putting away the rest of their shopping in various cabinets around the living room before going to sleep on the sofa.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4 : Answers and more questions**

The next morning, Harry awoke with the sure feeling he had never slept better, though it took him a moment to remember where he was. Once his memories were fully back in place, he leapt out of bed with a big grin on his face and went in search of Isabelle. He didn't have to go far, as she was still curled up on the sofa in the middle of the living room. With a giggle, the little boy skipped across the room and leant over her so he could see her face. Then he prodded her with a finger.

"Isabelle?"

The only response he got was a quiet moan. Giggling once more at the slight frown on her face, he tried a again, this time shaking her whole shoulder.

"Is-ah-beeelle."

"Nooo hmmngfrk. Don' wanna ge' up." The sleeping woman replied, her brows furrowing further as she curled even more on herself.

This time, Harry raised himself up on the sofa on his knees and started shaking vigourously.

"Wakey wakey! Time to get up!"

That did it. Moaning all the way, Isabelle rose to a sitting position, rubbing her eyes forcefully while seemingly pouting. Harry just stood in front of her with an eager smile on his face, trying not to jump up and down on the balls of his feet. One look at him in that moment and Isabelle decided she hated the little boy.

"You're chipper." She glared, causing him to stifle giggles again.

With a great big sigh, Isabelle finally let her arms fall from where they were holding her head up, and took a look around the small house. She sighed again.

"Right. You feel free to read or whatever, I'm going to get some breakfast. Then we can start on the muggle shopping." She announced, her voice still croaky from sleep.

Harry nodded happily before running back to his room with Isabelle staring after him for a few seconds until she shook her head like a dog, then moved to put on her shoes that were at the foot of the sofa. The boy still hadn't come back out with a book by the time Isabelle left, not even a minute later as she had slept in the clothes she had been wearing for the past two days already. Rubbing her eyes all the way, Isabelle shuffled into Fortescue's, remembering from the day before that the shop also sold donuts.

"Good morning!" the owner called as she walked in, ignoring the young woman's deadly glare. "You're up early, we don't usually have many customers until about half past seven."

This seemed to enrage Isabelle further and the only response the poor man got was a gruff "I hate children" before she walked out with her purchases.

Slamming the front door shut when she finally got back to the house five minutes later, Isabelle didn't notice her charge's flinch as his head snapped up from where he was reading on the sofa.

"Harry Potter! Why the hell am I awake? It's not even half seven in the fucking morning!" she cried, but her ire completely vanished when she saw the poor boy shrink into the couch with his head down.

"I'm sorry."

Seeing Harry seemingly afraid of her, Isabelle immediately calmed down and sighed. "It's alright, Harry. Sorry I scared you, I'm not really angry, just... tired."

The boy lifted his head slightly to peer at her through his hair before he lifted himself fully with a small understanding and contrite face, satisfied that Isabelle truly wasn't angry anymore. The young woman plopped herself on the couch next to him, causing him to jump slightly as the seat under him rose, and set the paper bag she brought back on the small table in front of them.

"What are you reading?" she asked, making Harry completely forget about her anger and return that bright little boy's smile to his face.

"_Wizarding Culture for Children_ by Victoria Taffy." He replied, lifting the hundred-something page book so she could see the title for herself. "I wanted to read a potions book but figured I should probably understand the wizard world first."

Isabelle nodded with a slight smile. "Good decision, learnt anything yet?"

"Not really, there was an Index at the beginning and I spent some time reading that, and the first chapter talks about Hogwarts." Harry responded. "I did just get to the bit where they explain about Hogwarts Houses, though, which I don't know about."

Nodding once more, the woman reached forward and snatched up the bag of donuts with a slight groan of effort and handed one to Harry, which he happily put down his book for. His donut was sprinkled with green and pink powder that stuck to his upper lip when he took a giant bite, whereas Isabelle's was simply coated with sugar. They ate quickly so as to get started on the shopping as quickly as possible, and they were soon getting ready to leave.

"Here, Harry, you put my jacket on. We might be in summer but it is early morning." Isabelle stated, handing her jacket over to the wide eyed boy.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine." She shrugged, and once he put the oversized leather jacket on, she ruffled his hair with a smile and offered a compliment. "You look like a badass. Come on, let's get this done. And don't forget your hat."

Pulling his cap over his head with a smile, Harry took his guardian's hand and followed her out the door. "Why do I need my hat if it's too early to be really sunny?" he asked.

"That's... a very long story that I will tell you this evening over dinner. Ok?"

Harry simply nodded as they walked down the Alley, hand in hand until they arrived at Gringotts, the bank. Without pausing like they did the first time, Isabelle nodded at the goblin guards and Harry offered them a small smile before they headed to a free teller.

"Hello," Isabelle greeted. "could you tell me how much the exchange rate between galleons and muggle pounds are please?"

The goblin sniffed at her before replying, in a somewhat cool voice as if he had been offended by what she said.

"It's 4.25 pounds to the galleon."

Isabelle nodded and turned to Harry. "What do you think, is 50 galleons good? We won't be using it all today but we might need it later."

Once she had Harry's acceptance, they went ahead with the exchange and they quickly left the bank with just over 200 pounds in the left pocket of the jacket Harry was wearing. The boy wasn't too sure about this, what if he lost the money? Then again the only other option was Isabelle's back trouser pocket and a wad of cash that big would be easily noticeable. At least the jacket pocket had a zip. So they ventured into the muggle world, greeting Tom as they went by, and spent the next hour trying to find a shopping centre where they wouldn't have to go far to get all they needed. Finally, they followed the directions given to them by a passer by and arrived at the shops at half past eight.

"Ok!" Isabelle called, momentarily letting go of Harry to clap her hands together once. "You got the list?" Harry nodded, patting the pocket on his new black shorts they had gotten the day before. "Right, well I think we should get some clothes first, that way if I can find a bathroom I can change quickly. Objections?"

"Nope!"

The pair shared a smile and entered into Primark.

"We don't need too much, just a few items of each, since we'll be spending most of our time in the... other world."

Harry nodded once more and they set to it. He didn't really understand what all the fuss was about; every time his aunt would take his uncle and cousin shopping, they would moan and in Dudley's case, cry. The only thing that persuaded the little beast to go was a promise of a treat – usually food. But Harry thought shopping was alright. They would search through the racks to see something they might like, and whenever they did, they held onto it so they could try it on later. It did take quite a while, but that to be expected since they needed to buy everything, including underwear and socks and even towels! But eventually they did make it to the changing rooms and would model each piece of clothing for the other. They had a lot of fun, Isabelle strutting out from behind the curtain and striking a ridiculous pose while looking straight in front of her and doing something weird with her mouth that resembled a pout. She had to stop, though, when Harry collapsed because he was laughing too hard.

After that, they went to a shop that sold all sorts of housing items to buy some plates, bowls and cutlery, along with a few vases and containers of all sorts, from wooden boxes to plastic Tupperwares to keep food in.

Then they went to W. and bought a bunch of muggle pens, some notebooks and Isabelle even told Harry to go wild in the book section, with a reminder that it was his money that they were spending. The pair then took a break for lunch, eating at MacDonald's in the food court before Isabelle went to the toilet to get changed, leaving Harry sitting on the bench outside the door.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Harry looked up from where he sat on the bench to see a man, an older adult than Isabelle, staring at him with concern.

"Yes, sir, I'm ok." The boy replied, slightly befuddled as to why this stranger was asking him if he was well.

The stranger in question didn't seem to believe Harry, though, as he didn't leave. "What are you doing sitting here alone?"

After a few seconds, the boy remembered the story that Isabelle had given Tom at Leaky Cauldron the first time they had been, merely the day before.

"I'm waiting for my Auntie, she's just getting changed in the toilet." He responded, feeling quite proud of himself. Though he hadn't been specifically told, he knew he couldn't tell anyone of the magical world, and even less about how Isabelle had taken him from his mean relative's home, even though he definitely preferred life with her.

The man nodded, then gestured to the seat next to him.

"Mind if I sit with you until your aunt comes out, just make sure you're fine?"

"Ok, sir."

And then there was silence. Neither spoke, though Harry thought the man might a few times, and they just sat calmly next to each other, the little boy swinging his legs in the air. Finally, after five minutes, Isabelle emerged from the bathroom and her eyes immediately went to Harry and the stranger, who she regarded warily. Harry jumped off the bench and rushed to her side with a wide smile, but there was a glint in his eyes as he spoke cheerfully.

"Hi Auntie Isabelle!"

The young woman smiled as she understood that Harry had told the stranger about their fake familial bond.

"Hey Harry, you alright?"

"Yep, the man kept me company to make sure I was fine until you came out." Harry replied, chipper as always.

Isabelle sent a smile the man's way as he got up off the bench. "Thank you, sir."

"Oh it was no problem, my wife is in the shop over there, so I'm just waiting." The man replied, waving a hand dismissively.

"Right then, well, have a nice day."

Harry waved goodbye to the man as they made their way over to their last stop before returning to the wizarding world. There, they bought tooth brushes, tooth paste, some band-aids and a hair brush, as well as some cardboard boxes to aid in the move they'd do once the Manor was ready.

With all of their bags, they were forced to take a taxi back to Charing's Cross, and made it to the Leaky Cauldron just after three o'clock. Because both of her hands were busy carrying bags, Isabelle was unable to grab a hold of Harry, thankfully though, she was wearing the bracelet given to her buy Gringotts that allowed her to see and enter the magical pub without his aid.

It was a very tired and relieved pair that made it back home, abandoning the bags and coats by the door as they fell onto the sofa with a sigh. Isabelle was back up with a groan though after only a few minutes as she needed to put all the shopping away, assuring Harry that he could keep reading his book.

It took her two hours to get everything sorted, after which she plopped herself down next to Harry with one of the new notebooks and a muggle pen, and began writing. At half past six, Isabelle was roused from her task when she heard a blushing Harry's stomach growl, and chuckling, made her way over to the cupboards filled with food they had gotten on the way back from the shopping centre, and set to work making a meal.

Finally seated with warm plates in their hands, Harry began eating happily, not noticing that Isabelle had restrained until she spoke.

"Harry?" her voice was hesitant, grabbing the boy's attention immediately. "I told you that I would explain why you had to wear a cap whenever we go outside during dinner. The story will be very hard to hear because it talks about how your parents died. Do you still want to hear it?"

Harry nodded, unable to talk, and only continued eating when Isabelle pushed his fork to his mouth.

"You remember yesterday, when I was talking to Tom, I mentioned a war?" Isabelle started. "Well about twenty or so years ago, there was a very powerful and very bad wizard that wanted even more power, so he gathered followers and ordered them to start attacking everyone that didn't do what he said. This wizard's name was Voldemort, though everyone was so afraid of him that they still call him You-Know-Who. So there was a war, Voldemort and his followers on one side, and the Ministry and a select group of resistance fighters on the other. Everyone else was caught in the middle, though Voldemort had it out for everyone. Eventually, on Halloween 1981, Voldemort decided that your parents were too dangerous."

Harry gasped. Had his parents not died in a car crash?

"You see, both of your parents and all their friends were part of this resistance group, and Voldemort didn't like that, so on Halloween, he broke into your house and he killed your mum and dad."

The boy had already finished his meal, other wise he would have simply stopped eating as he was so engrossed in this story.

"The thing is, Voldemort then turned his wand on you. There is a spell that kills anyone it touches, called the killing curse. No one has ever survived it, especially when Voldemort is the one to fire it. But, Harry, Voldemort fired the killing curse at little baby you, and the spell bounced off of you and hit him instead, banishing him and blowing up the room. That's where you got the scar from."

Raising a hand towards his scar, Harry recalled all the dreams he had had as a child where a man laughed evilly, followed by a green light. Was that light the spell? The killing curse?

"So Harry, that is why you can never take the cap off while you are in the wizarding world. In the entire world, there is only one person who has a scar like that, and every wizard and witch knows that the boy who has that scar is the boy that not only survived when no one else did, but he also freed them all from a very dark future. Every single wizard and witch knows that your scar belongs to Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived."

Isabelle ate her meal, carefully watching the boy in front of her as he assimilated all that he was told. Finally, he spoke after sitting with his head down for multiple minutes.

"My parents didn't die in a car crash?" he asked.

"No, Harry."

"I'm famous?"

"Yes."

Once more, they descended into silence. Isabelle quickly finished her meal and took both plates to the kitchen, taking her time washing them to give Harry some privacy. When she came back, his eyes were dry but there were slight tear streaks on his cheeks as he looked back at her.

"Isabelle? How do you know all this if your not magical?"

Ah. Well wasn't that the million dollar question?

With a great exhale, Isabelle once again plopped herself on the sofa.

"That is a very complicated and confusing situation, but since I said I'd tell you, here goes. I'm not from here. If I was, I'd have taken you to my home yesterday and paid for all your stuff with my own money. But I'm from... a different world, I guess you could say."

"A different world?" Harry squeaked. Was that possible? How many other worlds were there?

"Yep. I just appeared in your cupboard from my world, I don't know why. But the reason I know all of this is because in my world, wizards and witches aren't real, but there is a very famous fantasy series called Harry Potter." Isabelle said, completely shocking the boy once more.

"Me?" he squealed.

"Yes. There are seven books and each book is the story of one year at Hogwarts. So I know all about you and I know all about this world, and I know exactly what awaits you at school. Everything I've told you so far are things that you found out later in your life, according to the books. Of course, there are some cases where I make educated guesses, like your family vault at Gringotts. Not once is there mention of a family vault, but the phrase _trust vault_ implies that that's just a small bit of your money that's supposed to last you until you become an adult."

Once more, Harry stared at the young woman before him in awe.

"But... how do you get home?"

"I have no clue." Isabelle replied with a slight shrug. "But even if I could, I wouldn't."

"You wouldn't?"

"No. I don't have much waiting for me at home, and I can do a lot of good here. Not least of which is take care of you."

For the hundredth time over the past two and a half days, Harry felt a burst of love and gratitude towards this woman, his saviour. It hit him so hard that his eyes got blurry again and he launched himself at her, wrapping his arms tightly around her neck. Isabelle merely chuckled and held him against her equally as hard. Eventually they separated, and Isabelle gave him a wobbly smile.

"Go take a bath and change into your pyjamas. I'll be in your room with a present."

Harry did as he was told with a big smile on his face, still glowing from the fact that even if Isabelle could go home, she wouldn't because she wanted to stay with him. Twenty minutes later, he ran into his bedroom, all ready for bed, to find Isabelle sat there, writing in her notebook once again.

Seeing him, Isabelle snapped the book shut with a smile and shuffled over to leave room for the boy to get into a position fit for sleep, after which she grabbed a shoebox from under the bed.

"I found this when I was putting the trunk we bought yesterday under the bed." She said as she passed him the box.

Still smiling, Harry opened the box and pulled a stack of thick paper out. Turning them in his hand, he gasped as he realised they were photographs. Hands trembling slightly, he pulled the first one closer so he could see. It showed a man, quite tall and thin, covered in dark red paint standing in the very room they were in though it was empty in the picture. The young man had his mouth open in shock as he stood frozen, facing another young man with jet black hair who was laughing so hard Harry could almost see tears. The photograph was moving, and while the paint covered man was stood still, the other one was holding his stomach and shaking, his knees weak. Harry could almost hear the loud laughter, and it sounded almost familiar.

"That," said Isabelle quietly, pointing to the paint covered man. "is Remus, and that... that, Harry, is your dad."

Harry barely even registered her words as he looked at the next photo. It showed a paint covered Remus tackle James to the ground while the camera shook slightly, the one holding it clearly laughing just as hard as James had been. There were over ten pictures in the box, showing all four of the Marauders as well as a few with his mother. In all of them, they were in this very house and having the time of their lives. In one of them, even, the picture showed a baby harry, clearly just a few months old, laid on his back and giggling madly as a giant black dog tickled his belly with his snout. Harry's parents were sat in the background on the sofa, arms around each other and soft smiles on their faces as they watched the love between Sirius and his godson.

Isabelle left Harry with the pictures that night, trusting him to go to sleep when he felt tired, and retreated back to the sofa to continue her work in her notebook. She wanted this done as soon as possible so she could give it to Harry to prepare him for school.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5 : Life is wonderful with you in the** **World**

Over the next week, both Harry and Isabelle were ensconced in their own activities. The boy spent his time reading his books, learning all about the new world he was now a part of, and watching his family in the photos he had been given. He had started thinking of every one of his parents' friends as family, since though he had never met them he knew from the stories Isabelle would tell sometimes that they really were considered family by Jams and Lily. That, and even in story form they had always provided Harry with more comfort than his muggle relatives ever did. Isabelle spent most of her time writing in the many notebooks they had bought in the muggle world or job searching, only stopping to cook, clean and tell Harry stories.

The young woman had hit a bit of a snag when it came to jobs. The magical world wouldn't hire a squib or muggle – whichever she passed herself as – and the muggle world wouldn't hire someone who didn't have an address. Of course, Isabelle _did _have an address, just not one she could give to muggle businesses. So she had to rely on her own ingenuity. With Harry's help, she made lists of all the things she could do, all the skills she had, and what various jobs she could do with these skills, until finally they came up with a solution – or rather multiple solutions, as neither one would take up all her time and she intended to make as much money as quickly as she could so that she could pay Harry back and begin providing for him with her own hard earned money, however often the little boy told her to forget about the debt.

And so, two weeks to the day after Isabelle had helped Harry escape from her relatives, the woman received a call on the new flip phone she had bought a few days previously in the muggle world. The ringtone attracted both of the house's occupants as they froze for a few seconds, sending each other wide-eyed looks before Isabelle finally reached for the device.

"Hello, this is Isabelle Hughes." Isabelle said into the receiver, ignoring her thumping heart.

"Hello, um..." came a shy male voice. "are you the lady that put the ad in the paper?"

"Yes, I am, how can I help?"

Harry, who had abandoned his reading and scooted closer so as to hear the whole conversation, gave his guardian a wide smile as it became clear she had a potential customer on the phone.

"Hi, my name is Roger Clearwater. My daughter Penelope is about to start her third year at Hogwarts and told my wife and I about your article, saying you're setting up a sort of guide system to introduce muggle parents to the world their kids' were a part of?"

Isabelle's eyes widened as she recognised the name Penelope Clearwater – Ravenclaw prefect that was petrified by the basilisk at the same time as Hermione. But wasn't she a half-blood?

"Yes of course, Mr Clearwater, we can set up a meeting time and place and I can definitely answer all your questions and show you around wherever you'd like to go. Did your daughter happen to mention the fee?" Isabelle responded quickly, all the while attempting to calm down a very excited Harry.

"Oh yes, she said it was 10 pounds an hour?"

"That's right," Isabelle confirmed. "the fee is per person and it comes with a bracelet that I'll be getting from Gringotts – the bank – so that you can actually see and enter buildings which are otherwise hidden from muggles' view. Is this acceptable?"

Harry giggled at the young woman's way of speaking, ignoring her glare. She sounded so stuffy!

"That's perfect, thank you." Clearwater replied. "Are you available this Saturday morning?"

"Yes that's fine, is ten o'clock in front of the Leaky Cauldron alright?"

"That's great, yeah. Thank you, have a nice day."

As soon as Isabelle returned her first customer's farewell and hung up the phone, Harry let out a victorious cry and launched himself from the sofa into her waiting arms. They danced around for perhaps ten minutes until the young woman finally put a flushed Harry back on the ground.

"This is amazing!" the boy cried, jumping up and down and throwing his arms into the air. "You're gonna get loads of money by helping muggle parents around! You're gonna be rich, and you're gonna meet loads of people, and we're gonna make loads of friends and – and – and –"

Isabelle interrupted the overly excited boy with a chuckle. "Yes Harry, I got my first customer, but let's not get ahead of ourselves." She warned.

Still, Harry merely grinned back, before running to the coat stand.

"I'm gonna go play outside!" he called, putting on his cap to hide his scar. The first week, Isabelle had encouraged Harry to get some fresh air whenever he was bored with reading, and had been delighted to learn that he made some friends among the neighbourhood kids. He had been terribly shy and reluctant at first, but now he went out with a smile on his face and a bounce in his step.

"Alright, dinner is in two hours!" Isabelle replied, turning back to the notebook she had abandoned when the phone rang.

She had been pleasantly surprised when there were no problems between the ambient magic and the phone's technology, but figured that since neither of the two occupants could use magic yet and the phone was quite primitive – not what Isabelle would call _technology _exactly – she shouldn't have expected any problems. Hopefully, the good luck would stick even after they had moved to Potter Manor, which the goblins had said would be ready in a few days.

Over the past fortnight, Isabelle had been taking a note of everything she could change – whether they were minor events like Neville not having his own wand or major events like Sirius having a very painful last fifteen years of his life. Of course, there was nothing she could do about the previous eight years the Black heir had spent in prison, but hopefully she could come up with a plan to get him out earlier, and more importantly : legally. But whenever Harry was out playing with new friends, Isabelle would put work aside and get out a different notebook that held in it's pages a project that she planned to complete and gift to the boy either as a Homecoming present when they moved, or a birthday present for two weeks later. Hopefully it would be completed in time for their move, because Isabelle had another idea in mind for a birthday present; one that would help the boy practice and come to terms with a certain ability he had. Though she could always swap the order of the presents if the notebook wasn't done it time, which it should be; there were only a few pages left to go.

Harry came on time, however he found that Isabelle had been so engrossed in her project that she hadn't seem the time go by. He grinned indulgently as she jumped up, red faced and apologising, and hurried over to the kitchen.

"That's fine, Isabelle, I was actually hoping we could eat at the Leaky today. I kind of want some fish and chips." He said, and the young woman looked back uncertainly. A part from those first two days, Isabelle had been very wary about spending Harry's money.

"Are you sure?" she replied.

Harry simply nodded happily and they were off.

The little boy had noticed over the past couple of weeks that Isabelle had a little difficulty with the responsibility of being his guardian. At age 20, she wasn't a parent yet and had admitted that back in her world, she had just been about to move out of her father's house when she was pulled here, which explained why they had forgotten to buy so many things that first day. They were simply things they had forgotten they'd need like a cheese grater, some change of blankets and other bed makings as well as a small paper bin that went in Harry's room. So he helped out as often as he could, keeping a list of chores that had to be done by either one of them and reminding her when it was time to start cooking or go to bed (for him. Isabelle always wanted to tuck him in and tell him a story, and she'd go to bed long after the boy fell asleep).

At the Leaky Cauldron, Isabelle and Harry – who still went under the alias of Johnny whenever he spoke to anyone in the Alley, including his neighbourhood friends – struck up a conversation with Tom as they waited for their food. Tom congratulated Isabelle on the ad she had placed in the _Daily Prophet_, saying that it was a good idea that someone should have had years ago. He also asked how she had learned enough about their world to feel comfortable giving the information on a professional level, and Isabelle gave an answer that complied with the story she had given the first time they came in and didn't reveal the true origins of her knowledge.

"Well my brother Brandon died when I was quite young – just eleven, and I became obsessed with the wizarding world he'd been a part of. I read all of his Hogwarts school books which he'd kept, as well as some others he bought to satisfy his need for information." Isabelle stopped speaking for a moment while she took a sip of Butterbeer, and Harry heard the bartender fondly mutter something about Ravenclaws, earning a smile from the young woman. "Then a few years ago my mother finally lost it and chucked all of his old school stuff. When I brought Johnny into this world my obsession reared it's ugly head again and I've just been reading every book I can get my hands on and visiting every place I could think of."

"So that's what you were doing with the Floo last week!" Tom exclaimed, a victorious glint in his eye as he came to his realisation.

Indeed, the week before Isabelle had cursed suddenly in the middle of the afternoon, having realised that there was a chance she couldn't use the Floo. Leaving Harry to the colouring book they had bought when they had gone shopping, Isabelle had quickly run to the pub to see if she could or couldn't travel via the green fire. Thankfully, there were no problems as while she wore the bracelet, she had the same level of magic as a squib – meaning she could also call the Knight Bus, see anything magical such as buildings or even Thestrals if she qualified, and breed kneazles. She spent the entire week practicing how to floo so that she wouldn't fall on her face like Harry always did in the books.

"Yep! Have to make sure I'm up to the job or someone else will think it's a good idea too and try and steal my customers."

Tom grunted in understanding. "Well they better not. You're a good customer of mine and I wouldn't want to lose you. In fact, tell you what, whenever you come here with customers, I'll get you the first round of drinks on the house, how's that?"

"Really?" Isabelle almost squealed, a wide happy grin on her face that was mirrored on Harry's. "Aw, Tom mate, you're a star!"

She quickly jumped up on the counter and hugged the bartender tightly, attracting looks from the other patrons. Tom merely chuckled before swatting her with a dishcloth.

"Alright you, that's enough! Go on, get. You're food's almost done. Bon appetit, kids!"

Their food was indeed served not long after they had taken their seats at a table : Harry got fish and chips as desired and Isabelle had a small portion of pasta Bolognese as well as a bowl of tomato soup. Usually when they ate at the Leaky, Isabelle told the boy stories about his mother, as bedtimes were mainly reserved for the Marauders – though recently she had started telling stories about people that Harry had never heard of before – but this time, Harry had a question :

"Isabelle, why were the kids in the street saying that Slytherins are bad when we were playing?"

The brown haired girl sighed as she put her spoon back down and collected her thoughts. This was a view she understood, and had even agreed with the first time she read the series given how often it was repeated by certain characters, but she had come to see that not everything was black and white.

"Well," she said slowly, mulling over her words as the young boy waited. "it's mainly because of Voldemort and his influence. I doubt the prejudices were so huge before his time, unfortunately there aren't that many people alive that remember a time before Voldemort was at school. See Voldemort was very smart and very charismatic, I guess you could say. He manipulated people easily, which is how he got such a faithful group of followers at such a young age. He was a Slytherin, so the other Slytherins were the ones that were the most influenced by him, but all the other Houses just see a group of bad people and all of them happen to be in the same House. No one stops to think that maybe there was just one very bad person, and he corrupted the others, who might not have been white as sheet, but they definitely weren't evil."

Harry listened carefully, only taking a bite of his meal when she did.

"The kids who were in Slytherin at the same time as Voldemort almost all became Death Eaters, and when their kids went to Hogwarts and got into Slytherin, they had been influenced by their parents to become junior Death Eaters, with all the same ideals. Even when you go to Hogwarts, you'll be at school with the children of some Death Eaters that got loose. Prejudice is taught, and it's true that a lot of Slytherins today are prejudiced, because that's what they were taught by their parents, who were taught by their parents, who were taught by Voldemort."

The boy nodded, understanding what she was trying to say and slightly scared at the idea of going to school with people related to those who had killed his family. But Isabelle wasn't done.

"I guess there's also the reason for the kids being sorted into Slytherin. Do you remember that House's traits?" she asked. She often included him in the long answers she gave or stories she told, to ensure that he picked up any lesson there was to pick up and to make sure he was remembering everything he had learned about his new world.

"Cunning and ambition." Harry stated before shoving a chip in his mouth.

"Exactly." Isabelle nodded. "Now, there's nothing wrong with those traits, no more than any other trait. Everything has an up side and a down side. Cunning is very useful, it helps you avoid a lot of bad situations and helps keep you alive. However being cunning often entails lying, which depending on the situation is a bad thing. For example I – and you too I suppose – have been lying to everyone in the Alley. Then again we can't exactly tell everyone that I'm from a different universe, you are the famous Harry Potter and I basically stole you from your legal guardians, can we? The consequences are that would be better avoided, I think."

Indeed that would be bad, Harry thought. Isabelle had explained what exactly his defeat of Voldemort meant to the wizarding people, and he knew that the first time they saw him after years of silence he would be mobbed. And Isabelle would probably be put into a mental institution if anyone heard her talk about her origins. But Isabelle still wasn't done :

"Ambition, though, is probably the one that gets people all shifty." She said. "Though there's nothing wrong with ambition, without ambition you don't get anywhere in life – I should know, I don't have one bit of it. It could be your ambition to cure lycanthropy. It could be your ambition to be the coolest musician since Louis Armstrong. It could be your ambition to become the first person to ever be a dragon Animagus. Nothing is wrong with any of those, but the few people who just want power and influence and don't care how they get it... well, that's also ambition. It's these people that later become Dark Lords, like Voldemort and Grindlewald before him. They had the ambition to become powerful and control everything, and to achieve that goal, they killed and tormented and bribed and did loads of other terrible things that make even slightly good people hate them. Everyone remembers that Voldemort and his Death Eaters were Slytherins – mostly. I can think of a few that weren't – but no one remembers what other Slytherins have done. Damocles Belby was a Slytherin and he invented the Wolfsbane potion that gives Werewolves their own mind back during the full moon. I heard Alastor Moody was a Slytherin, but I'm not too sure, and he's the best Auror there is."

"People rarely look too deep into something they think they already know or understand." Harry piped up, quoting something Isabelle had told him earlier in the week. This earned him the pretty teeth-and-dimple smile Isabelle made whenever she was proud of him.

"That's right. Everyone already knows that Slytherins are evil, so why look at members of the House who are more hidden and usually mind their own business, when they'll be just as evil as the rest?" she asked rhetorically. She paused for a moment before continuing, her voice softer. "You know members of your family have been in Slytherin."

"Really?" Harry squeaked. Information on his family!

"Yep. Your grandmother was Dorea Black and she was in Slytherin. So was Andromeda Tonks, who was also born a Black. She's still alive and a distant cousin of yours, she should be in her thirties maybe, and the common opinion in my world was that she was a Healer, but it was never confirmed in the books."

"Black, like Sirius Black?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Sirius is the only Black to have been in Gryffindor, apparently all the others went to Slytherin, so while the books never specifically said that Dorea and Andromeda went to Slytherin, we can assume they did."

Conversation over, the pair finished their meals and left, sending a wave over Tom's way. Back home, they played Gobstones and talked together while colouring, lying on the floor of the living room, until 7 pm, when Isabelle sent Harry into the bath while she cooked. They ate their light meal slowly, discussing various plants Harry had been reading about until it was bed time for the little boy. This was perhaps the best time of the day for him because of Isabelle's stories. She was a really good story teller.

"Alright then, so where were we on yesterday's story?" Isabelle asked once they were all settled in.

"Merope escaped her mean family after potioning Tom into loving her, she had a baby and Tom abandoned her, then she died, leaving baby Tom at the orphanage." The boy responded.

That's right, Isabelle was telling Harry the story of Little Voldemort. She wanted him to understand early in life that the two were nothing alike. Harry was treated badly by his relatives, but never would he potion someone into loving them. He was badly bullied by his cousin and his gang, but never would he use his magic to hurt them other than in self defence.

"Yeah, that was it. So little Tom grew up in the orphanage. It wasn't a very nice place and it wasn't a very nice time, either. In those days, beating a child was just a regular way of disciplining them. So he was occasionally beaten with a stick by the adults, and he was also being badly bullied by the other children because they thought he was weird. Until one day, he realised that the weird things that always happened around him was magic, and he learned to control it."

Harry gasped, this was another person who managed to control their magic before school!

"But, when he finally managed to control his magic, he didn't wait until the others bullied him again and then used his magic to push them away. He didn't warn them that he could hurt them too now. He didn't give a show of power so the others would learn not to antagonise him. Instead, he went straight towards the smallest children, and he hurt them badly."

"No!"

"Yes. Because he was so afraid of those bullies for so long, he thought that now that _he _was the most powerful, he could bully the others too and make _them _afraid of _him_. And so he hurt the other children more than they ever hurt him, he killed one kid's pet rabbit and hung it for all to see, he took two children with him to a cave when they went on a trip and spent all afternoon hurting them, and he stole from them, just because he could. He stole things that reminded him of each of the other children so he could remember what it felt like when they were afraid of him. The only times those children were ever safe was when Tom went to Hogwarts for the school year."

"Why didn't the adults do anything? Were they afraid too?" Harry asked, his eyes wide.

"No, they never knew that Tom was bad, he was always so charming and well behaved, and all the other kids were too afraid to tell them."

Harry nodded, his brows furrowed as he looked down at the blanket. The young woman got his attention by poking his side.

"What you thinking about?" she asked.

Harry didn't respond for a few moments, clearly displeased and thinking deeply.

"I was bullied." He said after a moment. "The Dursley's were mean to me, and Dudley's friends liked to beat me up. So I know how he felt and I feel sorry for Tom that he went though that. But then he became worse than them, he hurt them more than they ever did and he did it just for revenge. He's a bad person and I don't like him." He ended his little tirade in a slightly petulant tone, crossing his arms firmly. His featured softened though because Isabelle was giving him her teeth-and-dimple smile.

"Good. I told you this story because both of you suffered through the same things, and yet you are nothing like each other. Because of the bullying, Tom got a taste for power and spent all his life hurting people. Whereas because of the bullying, you are a sweet compassionate boy who cherishes every little good thing he gets. You are a wonderful person, Harry, even at an age where a lot of children are mean even by mistake, you are a gift to the world, and you always will be."

Isabelle trailed a finger over the young boy's cheek as his eyes clouded and his lip tremble. She had said he was a gift. He knew she liked him and maybe even loved him, unlike the Dursleys had, but to hear that she thought that _he_ was a gift... his heart swelled and filled with so much love that it almost hurt. Wriggling down further into bed, Harry wrapped his arms around Isabelle's waist, knowing she would stay with him until he fell asleep.

She did, and as always she combed her fingers absently though his wild raven hair, but this time she also sang. It was soft, but Harry could hear it clearly, her voice broke on certain occasions when she couldn't reach a note, but Harry thought it was beautiful.

_It's a little bit funny... this feeling insi-ide, not one of those you can... easily hi-ide..._

The words were fitting, seeing what she had just told him, and she thought that the song would comfort him after the story, which admittedly wasn't super appropriate, whatever the moral behind it was. The young woman just felt that Harry had to know he was nothing like that poor excuse of a man, and he had to know just how much he meant to her.

_... How wonderful life is... now you're in the world._

As she finished the song, skipping certain bits because she didn't know them, Isabelle felt Harry sigh against her.

"Love you, Izzy." He uttered quietly before falling asleep, leaving Isabelle shocked and unmeasurably touched.

The new guardian stayed a further ten minutes, incapable of leaving Harry, before she finally untangled herself from his arms, kissed his cheek and returned to the living room where her notebook awaited. She had to finish this present.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6 : A coordinated move**

It was two days later, on the Thursday, that Isabelle and Harry received a missive from Gringotts saying that their work on Potter Manor was done and it was ready to be inhabited. It gave the Floo address and Isabelle immediately went a ahead, just to make sure everything was truly in order. She came back through the fireplace with a wide grin on her face and gestured an anxiously waiting Harry to go through.

"You explore, have a look at all the rooms and decide what should be what while I get all our stuff packed. I'll be over in a few hours with everything." She said, and with one last look behind him the boy disappeared in a flash of green.

Isabelle spent the next three hours running around the small house, putting everything in boxes or one of the trunk compartments. She made sure to check the laundry for any dirty clothes and every single cupboard and draw in the kitchen – she even emptied the cupboard under the sink of cleaning supplies that had been there before the pair had moved in. Eventually, everything was packed and the young woman was surprised to learn exactly how much stuff they owned. She had thought that she would have enough room to put the cardboard boxes with all the crockery and cutlery in one of the trunk compartments, but not only was there not enough room, she also had to use more boxes than she expected. Approximately three quarters of the books they had fit in one compartment, with the rest of it going into a box, another compartment held all of Harry's belongings such as the shoebox of photos and his Gobstones set, the third and fourth compartments held the pair's clothes, the fifth held all cleaning equipment and the seventh held the food. All the kitchen utensils were stored in boxes, as were all of Isabelle's notebooks and stationary.

Multiple trips would be needed.

Meanwhile, Harry was having the time of his life running around his new home, which was absolutely _huge_! There were three floors and the young boy figured he should start at the top and do level by level, room by room.

On the top floor there were five bedrooms, each of which had their own bathroom, and two studies that where directly in front of what was clearly the master bedroom. The master bedroom was in the middle of the other four bedrooms and was perhaps twice as large and had a walk in closet opposite the bathroom. Each room had a full set of furniture as well as framed photographs that held Harry's attention for quite a large amount of time, especially when he saw a picture of an unknown couple in the master bedroom. The couple seemed like older adults than Isabelle was – perhaps in their forties or close to it – and some of their features seemed familiar to Harry : the man had the same mop of hair he did, and the woman reminded him slightly of the pictures he had seen of Sirius. The young boy deduced that these were his grandparents, Dorea and Charlus Potter. Harry had asked Isabelle if she had any information on either of them, but she had said that they were barely even mentioned in the books and all she was fairly sure of was their Hogwarts Houses : Slytherin for his grandmother and Gryffindor for his grandfather.

The second floor had three more bedrooms, smaller than the ones on the level above and with only one bathroom for the whole floor. There was also a large library and a small type of living-room place, sort of like a lounge or a parlour. Again, all of the rooms seemed fully furnished, though perhaps only half of the shelves on the library were stocked with books and the lounge certainly had more room for chairs and cupboards. There was also a noticeable lack of cabinets in the corridor, unlike on the level above where there was some sort of small wooden furniture with a vase on top between every door. The whole floor seemed a lot less personal than the previous one had been, though it was well decorated with soft browns and creams with a hint of green that reminded Harry of a forest, there were absolutely no pictures and no sign of use on the wooden cupboards and draws in the bedrooms, whereas in one of the rooms above, one of the handles to a drawer was slightly loose, and there were slight scratch marks on almost every wooden surface, including the bedposts that looked like they had been chewed rather badly by a dog. Perhaps Sirius had been playing a prank?

Finally, Harry moved to the ground floor. Of course it was the same size as the others, but it seemed much roomier due to the significant decrease in the number of rooms, with only a kitchen, a huge ballroom type room that Harry deduced was used for parties because of the bar in one of the corners, a living room twice the size of the one on the level above, and finally a small room with a table and some chairs – though it was clear a few were missing – that seemed to have no other purpose than to greet visitors, as this was the room that had the Floo. It was also the floor that had the least furniture, except the kitchen which was fully stocked. There was a notable lack of anything in what Harry was calling the ballroom except for two sofas placed in a V in one of the corners. The boy thought perhaps there was an armchair and a small table missing, but he couldn't be sure. The living room had only one chair and one piece of furniture with shelves, the rest of it was empty.

Overall, Harry figured that while the building itself must not have had any damage done to it, unlike the house at Godric's Hollow which Isabelle told him the roof came down on, Death Eaters must have broken in at some point and started firing spells everywhere, damaging furniture and maybe the internal walls. There was more than enough space to live in while avoiding the empty or sparsely furnished rooms. They were only two people, they didn't need all this space!

On the other hand, if Harry made friends at Hogwarts or even before, he might want to invite some over. The same went for Isabelle – she might even find a nice man that she wanted to marry! Then he could live here with them, and they'd be like a real family except that the ages would be off and none of them would actually be related. They'd be like an adoptive family!

Harry grinned at the thought as he went to inspect the kitchen. They had found some stuff in the kitchen cupboards of the old house, maybe there'd be some here. The bright side of all this was that though it hadn't been inhabited in a long time, the entire Manor was very clean. Though he didn't mind cleaning, Harry didn't even want to think about all the work they'd have to do if it had been in the same state the house was!

Snapping back to attention when he heard a loud dong ring through the Manor – sign that the Floo had just been activated – Harry grinned and abandoned his search, racing instead to the 'greeting room' to jump into Isabelle's arms. Luckily she had anticipated this and put the trunk down before he even got into the room, so by the time he reached her, Isabelle's arms were open and she was ready to catch him. They embraced for a few moments, the young woman making exaggerated sounds of effort as she squeezed him to make him giggle.

"So!" Isabelle intoned once the had put the boy down. "What do you think of the place?"

"It's great!" Harry cried, jumping up and down with his wide grin like he did so often. "It's huge! I can invite all my friends when I finally get to Hogwarts! There's some rooms though that don't have all the furniture, but we can just avoid those."

Isabelle chuckled at his ever present enthusiasm, happy that he seemed to be looking forward to interacting with people his own age – of course he had spent the past two weeks playing with the kids on the street, but most were slightly younger or older than him.

"Yeah, from what I understand the Death Eaters attacked and trashed the place." The young woman replied.

"That's what I figured." Harry nodded sagely, only to break into laughs when Isabelle next spoke.

"Alright then, smartass, I'll shut up. Listen we've still got some boxes back at the house, so you take the trunk to whichever room you want and start emptying your stuff, I'll come help when I've brought everything else over."

"Ok, and when we're done unpacking can you teach me to Floo like you do? I fell on my face when I got here." The boy grumbled, rubbing his arm with a momentary scowl that disappeared when his guardian laughed.

"Sorry, I knew I forgot something! No problem, Harry, we can go back and forth between the Manor and the house. See you later!"

It was almost an hour later that Isabelle returned, finding Harry in one of the rooms next to the master bedroom on the top floor looking at a framed photo he had taken from the night stand.

"Hey Harry, what you doing?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe. The boy's head snapped up and he greeting her with a smile.

"Nothing, just waiting for you. I've finished with my stuff, do you need any help with the boxes?" he replied.

"That's fine Harry, thanks. I'll do the boxes while you take care of the trunk? You can organise my stuff however you want in whichever room, just leave the food and cleaning supplies, I'll do those later."

"Ok."

"So is this the room you chose for yourself?" Isabelle questioned, stepping forward to peer into the room curiously.

"Yep! It used to be my Dad's room, look. He carved his name in the headboard." Indeed, written on the headboard in scruffy handwriting was the name _James_. There were other markings on the bed too, such as _Prongs _and _SB WUZ HERE_, which made Isabelle chuckle. "And there's some pictures too that come with a frame and everything!"

The young woman smiled indulgently as she looked at the picture Harry held up. It seemed like the picture that was described in the books, showing all four Marauders arms over shoulders and smiling for the camera.

"I thought you would have picked the master bedroom." She remarked, a slight question in her tone. Of course, she understood his desire to sleep in the same room as his father once had, but it was his house.

"No, I left that for you." Harry replied, surprising the lady.

"What? Why?"

"Because, it's the biggest bedroom in the house." He responded, slightly confused.

"Exactly, which is why it should be yours. It's the master bedroom, you are the master of the house."

"But you're the adult."

"And you'll be an adult or at least old enough to pretend to be in a few years." Isabelle shot back. "That room is yours, if you don't want it now then fine, but I'm not having it just to move out later. Just pick any random bedroom and start unpacking, alright? I'll get started on the boxes."

With that, Isabelle put an end to the discussion, turning and heading towards the 'greeting room' where she had left the boxes. Each box had it's basic contents written on it, and the woman delivered each box to its respective room before emptying them individually, though she left the one containing her notebooks in the living room, not knowing which of the bedrooms was hers yet. What's more, she had finally finished her project for Harry the day before and she didn't want him peeking until she was ready – not that she thought he would, but you could never be sure with children.

_Children_. Isabelle snorted. Harry was immensely mature and responsible, the only childlike things about him were his curiosity and enthusiasm for pretty much anything. He was quite shy, but she could see the Gryffindor in him as he only needed a gentle push before interacting with others, such as the children on the street or Tom the bartender. Or was it Hufflepuff? he was quite sociable when he got past his fear, and a true delight to be around, so kind and caring. Those were Hufflepuff traits; then again the Hat did say he could go into any of the four Houses. In any case, Harry was a huge help to her. At 20 years old, never really having had much responsibility before – especially not caring for an underage human being – and being thrust into a new world that was both confusing and exciting, Isabelle was sure she wouldn't have coped with anyone other than Harry. He kept her grounded and reminded her of the little things she tended to forget.

Yes, she mused, she was lucky it was Harry and she was lucky he was not even younger. She was sure that even responsible and mature Harry would have been a nightmare at three years old, or she would do a terrible job of caring for him if he was five.

It was with a smile on her face and love in her heart that Isabelle approached Harry in the library where he was reading that evening, all of the unpacking being done, with a dark red leather covered notebook.

"Harry?" she called, gaining his attention.

The boy looked up and smiled when he saw her. "Hi Izzy. I chose your room, by the way. It's the one on the other side of the master bedroom than mine. It's the one best decorated beside mine and the master one."

"Great, thanks hun." She smiled, having picked up the pet name sometime during the first week of their stay together. "I have a Homecoming present for you."

"Really?" Harry squeaked, shuffling to the side so that Isabelle could sit next to him.

"Yep. I've been working on it for almost two weeks now, just finished it yesterday. Take a look. It's not much but I think you'll like it." Isabelle said softly, worried he wouldn't like it as she handed him the book.

The boy took it gently and turned the cover to the first page. The whole page was covered in Isabelle's neat writing and Harry eagerly read.

_Arthur Weasley_

_Arthur is the father of the family, an easily excitable man who works in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts in the Ministry of Magic and who loves finding out how muggle objects work (he even has a muggle car that he charmed to fly but don't tell his wife)..._

Harry shot a confused look to his guardian before flicking through the rest of the notebook.

_Molly Weasley_

_Bill Weasley_

_Charlie Weasley_

_Percy Weasley_

_Fred and George Weasley_

_Ron Weasley_

_Ginny Weasley_

_Hermione Granger_

_Neville Longbottom_

_Luna Lovegood_

And so it continued, the whole hundred or so paged notebook was filled with names, most of them meaning nothing to Harry at all, others that he recognised. He finally turned to Isabelle for an explanation which she provided.

"All these people are people you'll meet or at least hear about once you go to Hogwarts. All the students, some of their families, the professors, even some people that actually have nothing to do with the school, like Rita Skeeter who is a journalist. All of these are people you'll meet, and I've written down everything I know about them. Their character, their history, some secrets that I know. This way, even before you meet them you'll know who's who, who you need to avoid, you want to be friends with, who will be beneficial for you to get along with... stuff like that." She told him, and young Harry suddenly saw the book in a different light.

These would be his future friends, his future family like the Marauders had been his Dad's family. In this book was details of people he would and wouldn't like, of people he would love and people who would try to hurt him. Grinning madly, he turned to his guardian and engulfed her in a tight hug.

"Thank you." He murmured.

"You like it?"

"Course I do, it's brilliant!"

"I'm glad." Came the response. Did she really think he wouldn't like something she gave him after she spent all that time working on it? "Alright, I better get dinner ready. You have half an hour to keep reading because after dinner it's bath and bed. Got it?"

"Got it."

That night, Isabelle didn't tell Harry a story, nor did she sing for him like she had the other day. Instead, she let Harry read a bit of the notebook before going to sleep, where he dreamt of big castles and friends he could run around the grounds with. In his dream there were red-heads and half giants and girls with bushy brown hair or long and pale hair, there was also a dog, a stag and a wolf with a rat on its head running around with the kids, playing chase.

Isabelle stood at the doorway of Harry's new room, watching him sleep with a smile on her face. She was glad he liked her gift, but either way she would have made him read it. There were bad times coming, they were a few years away granted, but they were still coming, and Harry needed friends and allies as soon as possible. With the information she had provided him he would choose who he wanted to follow him, he would know how to deal with people like Skeeter so that they worked for instead of against him. And she would always be there behind him, ready to catch him if he fell, ready to guide or comfort him. Her little boy.


End file.
